Seven Relatively FailSafe Ways to Charm a Witch
by the-snitch-is-loose
Summary: Seven love stories told by seven different couples. This story shows everything from the marauders trying to find love to the next generation doing the same. As it turns out, charming a witch takes more than fancy wandwork.
1. Impersonate a Ravenclaw

"Hey, Moony. What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? Isn't one of them some kind shrub?"

"You need to start paying more attention to Professor Slughorn, Sirius. He told us ages ago that monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant,"

"So they're both shrubs?"

"No," sighed Remus, rolling his eyes at the incompetence of his friend. "It's aconite, basically. All three of them - "

"Shut up a second, you two! She could be here any minute!" hissed James suddenly, bending his head over his book once more to make it look like he was actually studying. Remus wasn't fooled by the show, and in his opinion, Lily Evans wouldn't be fooled either. It was a beautiful autumn day at Hogwarts, probably one of the last of the term that the students would be able to go outside and bask beside the black lake with their feet in the water. Yet the Marauders were the only four people in the library, with the sunlight streaming welcomingly through the long blue curtains framing high windows. Outside, the lake glittered tantalizingly, and a group of Hufflepuffs lounged beside it, just waiting (so it seemed to James and Sirius) to be attacked with a few boxes of Dungbombs. There was no way, thought Remus, that Lily would think James was in the library working. Not on a gorgeous day like today.

With another sigh, Remus buried his nose back into his Transfiguration essay and didn't say a word. Across the table, Peter was lazily Summoning the same black fly from the air into his hand, letting it go, watching it buzz around the room for a few seconds, and then nonchalantly Summoning it back into his waiting hand. Sirius had a blank piece of parchment in front of him that he had been staring at for over an hour, randomly asking Remus questions but then not even lifting his quill once he had an answer. James, at least, appeared to be attempting to get some work done, but in reality his parchment was covered in doodles of the Quidditch pitch, complete with diagrams of famous moves he was itching to try.

"I don't understand why we have to be here in the first place," said Sirius suddenly.

"Because, Padfoot, this is where Evans comes in her spare time," James replied, glaring at his best friend as though Sirius should know better than to ask such a stupid question.

"This is where all the _rejects_ come in their spare time," scoffed Sirius, looking around the room as though hoping to spot a few rejects. There was no one else in the library besides them. "Honestly, I feel like a hippogriff in a homeless shelter,"

Peter giggled. The other three ignored him, as they usually did whenever he laughed at something stupid.

"Don't call Lily a reject, and don't call her a hippogriff!" said James angrily. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

"Shut it!" Remus interjected, before jinxes began to fly.

"Well lucky for you, Prongs, I've brought something with which to entertain myself," sniffed Sirius proudly, reaching for his school bag.

"What is it?" asked Peter, scooting in closer to get a better look.

Sirius smiled mischievously and pulled a Chocolate Frog from the depths of his robes. Peter watched, mouth agape in awe an curiosity, as Sirius started folding the piece of parchment he had previously been trying to do homework on into a cone-like shape. He tapped his creation once with his wand, which made it turn bright purple, and placed it carefully on the unwrapped frog's head, like a hat.

"Good evening, gentlemen . . . and gentlewerewolves," said Sirius in a ridiculous, scratchy voice, making the frog move as if it were speaking. "My name is Albus Frogledore."

Peter guffawed loudly, but Sirius (who was watching James, clearly hoping for a reaction from his best friend) didn't seem to notice. So Sirius continued, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Feet!"

"Sirius, that one wasn't even funny," said Remus, rolling his eyes.

"Mr. Lupin!" Sirius exclaimed in mock anger, still continuing the voice. "I am affronted! I mean, _affrogged_. I ought to turn you into a tadpole! Unfortunately I don't think my frog-magic will work on puppies . . ." He grinned. Remus frowned for the briefest moment, then let out a laugh.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Padfoot. Ha!"

Sirius was about to make a snarky comeback, but was interrupted by James' laughter. He grinned as his best friend laughed even harder, tears of joy threatening to run down his cheeks. Mission accomplished, Sirius sat back in his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"Guys! Guys! She's here!" hissed James excitedly, stopping laughing at once. Sure enough, Lily Evans was just walking through the library door, with her nose already in a book. Looking up from the dusty page only to wish Madam Pince a good afternoon, she immediately sat down in the closest chair and continued reading.

"Wish me luck, boys," said James with a triumphant smirk. Before Remus could mock him or Sirius could do more than grin encouragingly, he was on his feet and sauntering coolly over to Lily. He slid into the chair beside her with all the smoothness of one practiced in the art of being cool. Running his fingers through his dark hair for a little extra effect, James waited patiently for Lily to look up from her book. He was waiting for the emerald eyes to meet his own, waiting for her to swoon at the sight of him, waiting for her to even just glance in his direction. When she did none of these things, James took matters into his own hands.

"Hey, Evans," he said in his silkiest voice.

She didn't acknowledge that she'd even recognized his presence. Rather, she pretended as though a speck of dust was sitting in the chair that he occupied, nothing more.

"You look more exquisite with every passing moment, d'you know that?" When he again got no response, he decided to just go for it. "If a hundred veela started dancing for me, but you were standing next to them, I'd—"

"You are an obnoxious little wart, Potter, and I'd never date you. Not if you were the last human being on Earth," Lily said hotly, looking up from her book at last. James took this as a good sign; at least she knew he was sitting there.

"C'mon, Evans!" James smirked and moved into a chair next to hers. "I know that secretly you can hardly resist me. I'm the most popular guy in school—"

"OY!"

"Sorry, Sirius! All right, _one__ of_ the most popular guys in school, I'm easily the best Quidditch player, and did I mention that I'm cleverer than half the professors?" James continued, managing to keep a cool smirk on his face even when Sirius interrupted his spiel from across the room.

Lily was laughing. He didn't care that she was laughing at him; he loved watching her face light up like that. "You? Intelligent? Yeah, right! I'll bet there are hinkypunks out there smarter than you are, James Potter!"

"I resent that!" James remarked in a mock dramatic tone. "I am in the library on this fine afternoon studying so that I can get twelve 'Outstanding's on my N.E.W.T.s, as are the only marks I would accept for myself. I could easily be basking beside the lake, but I've decided to get a seven month head start on my revision! How is that not intelligent?"

There was a barking laugh from the only other occupied table in the library. James glared over at his friends, who were almost crying with mirth. Remus was actually shaking with silent laughter, but Sirius was unable to be so quiet. Even Peter was chuckling.

"If you get twelve 'Outstanding's I'll eat my cauldron," said Lily, looking down at her book once more. James, getting frustrated, decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I happen to be a very clever young man," he said proudly, puffing out his chest slightly.  
"As a matter of fact, I was supposed to be Sorted into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor,"

"That's not even a little bit true," scoffed Lily.

"I assure you, it is. Here, let me prove it to you. I can list off the most famous goblin rebellions in wizarding history, all from memory!"

Lily gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing to stop him.

"All right. Well first there was Clark the . . . er . . . Clairvoyant. Yeah, Clark the Clairvoyant. He came from... Kent. And he was all-seeing, and all-powerful. He had a little goblin wife named Lois Lane the Lethargic, but they hated each other because Lois never cooked anything delicious for dinner for him because all she wanted to do was sleep. So Clark and Lois started fighting each other and rose up massive armies of goblins, which eventually lead to the great War of 1782, in which Flash the Fast nearly lost his life. But then in 1794 —"

"You do realize that I'm Muggle-born, don't you, Potter?" Lily interrupted before James could go any further. He was shocked to see that she was almost laughing. James had expected her to be angry to discover he was lying to her so blatantly. He couldn't see what was so amusing about the situation. "I've heard of Superman. I used to read American comic books all the time,"

James swore to himself. Through the rushing in his ears that told him his face was turning red, he could hear his friends laughing harder than even Lily was. He thought desperately for something to say, before he made a complete fool of himself.

"I definitely belong in Ravenclaw, Evans," he replied coolly. "I was just testing you on your Muggle knowledge. Look, I'm a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw!"

"Let's see it, Prongsie!" called Sirius.

"Do the Ravenclaw!" Remus added.

James bowed dramatically to his friends, turned and did the same to Lily, and promptly jumped onto one of the library tables, ripped the blue curtain from the window in front of him, and tied it around one shoulder like a toga. In a ridiculous high-pitched voice that any seventeen year old boy other than James Potter would have been ashamed to admit to doing, he said, "Good day to you, Miss Evans. My name is Rowena Ravenclaw. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear," With that, James bent at the knee so that he was level with Lily's head and kissed her hand, batting his eyelashes in the most feminine of ways. Lily virtually fell onto the floor laughing, as did Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

"James Potter, get down from there at once!"

It was Madam Pince, and she was _angry_. Angrier than angry. James immediately leaped from the library table and pulled off his makeshift toga. The other four tried desperately (but with little success) to suppress their laughter as the librarian loomed menacingly over James, more vulture-like than anything else.

"How dare you deface these curtains! Jumping on tables, making more noise than a pack of trolls! Detention, and twenty points from Gryffindor!" she squawked.

"Yes, ma'am,"

"Mind that it doesn't happen again. Off with you, now, before I change my mind and take more house points!"

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter ran from the library before this could happen, Lily's clear laughter still ringing in their ears. They sprinted outside to the lake to enjoy the last of the autumn sunshine, flopping down together next to the dark water and still laughing at what had just occurred.

"Good one, Prongs," said Sirius, clapping his best friend of the back triumphantly.

"Sorry to break it to you, mate, but I don't think she believes I'm a Ravenclaw,"

"No one in their right mind would ever think that," Remus chuckled.

"Shut it, Moony,"

"Too bad about the detention, though," said Peter.

At this, James actually smiled. He'd gotten Lily Evans to laugh. And not at him, at one of his jokes. She was starting to warm up to him a little! He grinned as he said "Worth it."


	2. Protect Her From the Tibetan Warlock

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry's brilliant world or anything in it. _

"Boys! Ron, Harry, and Hermione should not be the only ones doing the work around here!" barked Mr. Weasley as his twin sons flopped lazily down onto their bunks. "When Muggles go camping everyone pitches in!"

"We're not Muggles, Dad," groaned George for the umpteenth time.

"And we're not technically camping. We're only staying until the World Cup is over," added Fred. Mr. Weasley gave them an annoyed look.

"You know what I meant," he huffed. "Now if you'd be so kind, we'll be needing firewood to make dinner with—"

"Aw, Dad can't we just have normal food?"

"No! We are going to do this the proper way, like real Muggles!"

"But—"

"No buts, Georgie. Now, Ron, Harry, and Hermione are out getting water, so why don't the two of you do your part? Even Ginny and I will help, right dear?"

Ginny looked far from pleased with this arrangement, but didn't say anything to protest. Fred and George barely managed to hide their snickers at the look on her face.

"Sure, Dad,"

Mr. Weasley beamed at her before continuing, "Right. We'll try to find the matches, then. Bye, you two! Don't get into any trouble now—no gambling with Mr. Bagman unless I'm with you—watch out for hags!"

"Bye, Dad," the twins chorused as they stepped out of the tent.

Fred and George set off lazily, not intending to return for at least half an hour so that they could get a good chance to see the camp properly, and hopefully meet some witches. Though it was close to sunset, the amount of activity in the camp was almost chaotic. Witches and wizards were wandering in every pathway, screaming about merchandise they sold at the top of their lungs. There were warlocks who could balance three cauldrons at once on their noses; old witches gossiping excitedly together, swapping stories; dragon breeders who walked around suspiciously, occasionally sauntering over to someone who looked like they didn't have anything to do with the Ministry and offering eggs; even, as George pointed out, a man who looked uncannily like a vampire.

"Wonder why Dad told us to look out for hags?" asked Fred awhile later.

"No idea. Maybe he believes those stories about them cutting off human fingers and using them as toothpicks . . ."

"Nah, that's true, George. Lee even said that one time—"

"Fred! Look over there!"

"What? Where?"

"At the edge of the wood!"

While Fred was still searching fruitlessly for the source of his brother's excitement, George took matters into his own hands and grabbed Fred's shoulders, wrenching them around so that he could not miss what he'd spotted. Fred's eyes lit up.

"I don't believe it!"

"Are they real?"

"Must be. But I've never even seen one before-"

"They're even better than Bill said they would be!"

A small group of veela were standing in a tight knot before them, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. Their silver hair glistened in the evening sunlight like shards of glass, their bright eyes alight with excitement. George punched Fred playfully in the arm as if to reassure his twin that he wasn't dreaming, then said mischievously, "How difficult do you think it would be to get two of them alone with us, Freddie?"

"Not too difficult," answered Fred, matching his brother's roguish tone. "if we come up with a good enough plan,"

"D'you think we could convince them we're on a Chocolate Frog card?"

"Nah. We're going to have to come up with something better than that . . ."

"Fred, why can't I be the heroic one this time?"

"Because, George, we want the veela to fall madly in love with a dashing young wizard, and I'm the handsome one of the two of us."

"You are not! Mum always said—"

"—that I was better looking."

"That's not true! Just because you were born first—"

"—means that I have more authority and I say that I get to be the heroic one!"

George scowled at his brother, arms crossed tightly across his chest, one foot tapping impatiently on the forest floor. The twins' whispered argument, carried out behind a small grouping of trees that grew close enough together to create a hiding place, was in danger of being loud enough for the veela standing nearby to hear. Recognizing this, George took a calming breath and muttered, "Fine. This time you get to be the hero, but next time it's my turn! And you owe me five Chocolate Cauldrons, which are the only payment I will accept to appease me."

Fred clapped his brother warmly on the back. "Good man, Georgie. I knew there was a reason I loved you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I want my Cauldrons as soon as we get back to the Burrow."

"Deal. Now let's find you a suitable costume…"

Within ten minutes, George was outfitted with a ragged cloak the twins had stolen from a nearby tent, his face smeared with mud, hair mussed up to a level of untidiness that would make James Potter proud. Fred wolf-whistled as he looked his brother up and down critically. "You look absolutely ravishing, George. If I were a veela, I'd pick you over a dashing young wizard any day."

"If you were a veela, we wouldn't have to bother with ridiculous plans because I'd already be dating you. I'm that smooth." said George. Fred snickered with disbelief.

"Sure you are. Now let's get going, before the veela scarper."

Without further ado, Fred leapt dramatically from behind the trees and meandered coolly to where the group of veela was still standing, talking and giggling amongst themselves without the slightest concern for the troves of wizards ogling at them from afar. They paid attention, however, when Fred Weasley appeared before them, bold as brass with a smug smile stretched across his face. "Hello, ladies," he crooned. "Are any of you using a Confundus Charm, or are you just naturally mind blowing?"

To both twins' amazement, the veela giggled. Instead of letting the shock appear on his face, however, Fred played it cool and continued, "Wow. You look even more beautiful when you laugh. I wouldn't have thought it was possible."

"Such a sveet tongue for a young vizard," said one of the veela, almost mockingly. Her voice was melodious, like hundreds of little bells ringing. "Vot's your name, leetle boy?"

"You can call me Felix," Fred said with a sly wink.

"Felix?" one of the veela questioned. She sounded genuinely curious, which Fred took as a good sign. They were interested in him.

"Yeah, as in Felix Felicis, because one of you beautiful ladies is going to get lucky with me," The veela laughed again and moved closer to Fred.

"Vell, Felix, I could think of a few reasons vy none of us vould like to — vot vas it you called it? 'get lucky' — veeth you today," said the veela who had spoken before. "The first of vich being that you don't look old enough to know the difference betveen a branch and a bowtruckle."

Fred looked indignant. "Excuse me? For your information I know many things about the forest. I know about a rumor that I bet you lovely ladies haven't heard yet. Apparently there's a deranged Tibetan warlock meandering around the campsite!"

"A vot?" asked one of the veela, looking frightened.

"A Tibetan warlock," Fred repeated. "They're saying he's barking mad. He runs around the woods all day screaming about ducks and Floo powder, and whenever anyone gets near him he pretends to be a carrot. I saw him once already today and he tried to attack a group of Swedish witches. Seemed to think they were roasting his ducks for a dinner party. I'd watch out for him, if I were you, he sounds quite dangerous."

The veela gasped, looking horrified. They stared at the surrounding trees with wide eyes, as if expecting the warlock to jump out of nowhere and attack them.

As it turned out, they were right.

Within seconds of Fred finishing his speech, George jumped from his hiding place with an insane shriek, waving his arms and jumping up and down like a monkey. His brother had to fight back laughter as George loped toward the group of veela, drool sliding down his chin, eyes crossed, still screaming like a maniac.

"MY POOR WATER FOWL!" George screeched, getting closer to the veela every second. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DUCKS? FRIED THEM? MASHED THEM? STUCK THEM IN A STEW? HOW DARE YOUUUUUU!"

Fred, with a heroic look back at the veela, stood in front of them with his wand drawn, bellowing, "Never fear, fair dames! I'll take care of this buffoon!" With that, Fred brandished his wand, ready to send out a spell to slow George's efforts to reach him, when suddenly—

"NO!" Fred yelled. His wand had turned itself into a rubber chicken before his eyes. George stopped running towards them. The veela stopped being petrified and began to look confused. "Damned fake wands! In the name of Merlin's giant—"

"Vy has the varlock stopped?" whispered one of the veela. Fred frantically searched his pockets for his real wand, but it was in vain. How was he supposed to look heroic saving the veela from his made-up threat if he only had a rubber chicken to defend himself with? The hilarity of the situation seemed to hit George right at that moment, for he doubled over laughing. The veela, however, were looking a lot less confused now that they realized George wasn't actually a deranged Tibetan warlock coming to take revenge. Instead they looked furious. So furious, in fact, that they were beginning to literally shake with rage . . .

"George! Stop laughing! It's not funny! We're—" but Fred's angry shout was interrupted by a birdlike cry behind him. Turning quickly on the spot, he found himself face to face not with a group of beautiful women, but rather a group of angry winged creatures that literally had fire in their hands waiting to be thrown. Fred gulped.

"Now, ladies, it was only a joke, I can explain—"

"We were only messing around, we didn't mean any harm, honestly—"

"Can't we talk about this in a civilized way?"

The veela were advancing menacingly on the twins now, beaks snapping at the air as if they wished they could snap at flesh instead. Fred and George backed away slowly while they tried to talk their way out of it, but they could tell they were wasting their breath. This was confirmed as one of the veela growled, in a voice that sounded nothing like bells, "You'd better start running, Felix!"

Fred and George turned and sprinted as fast as they could through the trees without looking back.


	3. Dump Frog Spawn on Her Head

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Ja-ames, happy birthday to you!" the crowd chorused. There was a loud cheer as Harry and Ginny helped their little son blow out the tiny flame. The single candle on James's enormous birthday cake was in danger of being swallowed up by the gallons of frosting Teddy had heaped onto it, but no one seemed to care how bad the frosting-to-cake ratio was as they were handed their slices.

"To Mr. James Sirius Potter!" Ron cried out, raising his butterbeer for a toast. "May all his other birthdays be as big as my sister's gigantic pregnant belly!"

"_Ron_!" Hermione hissed, tugging on his arm angrily. "Could you _try_ not to—"

"Oh, right, and bigger than Hermione's slightly less gigantic pregnant belly," he continued with a wink at his wife. "Sorry, love. Don't want you thinking I've forgotten you."

"Harry, punch him in the nose for me, will you, dear?" said Ginny in a mockingly sweet voice. "I can't while I'm holding James."

"My pleasure," Harry laughed, pretending to swing at his best friend.

"Whoa! Watch it!" cried Ron as he ducked. "I was only joking!"

"Well that happens to be my wife and unborn daughter you are making fun of, Weasley, and I can't possibly let you get away with it," said Harry, grinning.

"Ooh, did you finally let the Healer tell you whether it was a girl or boy?" Mrs. Weasley said as she appeared out of nowhere, drawn to the spot by the talk of her future grandchild.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, mum. I've told you a thousand times: we don't want to know,"

"Then why did Harry just say 'daughter'? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I know it's a girl," said Harry with a smile at Ginny that his wife did not return. "Even if Gin doesn't agree with me," Molly threw her hands in the air impatiently and walked away, but not before taking little James from his mother's arms. If she wasn't going to get information about future grandchildren, she was at least going to take the opportunity to spoil the ones she already had.

At that moment, Teddy Lupin walked out of the Burrow's kitchen and into the garden, where the rest of the guests were devouring their cake. His small face looked nervous, and he kept running his fingers through his turquois hair. Ginny was about to make an angry retort to her husband when Harry held up a finger to quiet her and said, "Hang on. I want to see what Teddy's up to,"

Ginny looked indignant, but watched with the rest of them as Teddy paced back and forth on the spot, staring across the garden at a little girl who was watching George Weasley make a flower swim around her head. Suddenly, Teddy seemed to work up the courage to do whatever he'd planned. He walked right up to the little girl, tapped her on the shoulder, and said, "Victoire, will you dance with me?"

Victoire, who'd given the little boy a disgusted look when he touched her shoulder, tossed her long silver hair and replied coldly, "No."

"Would you like the rest of my Chocolate Frog, then?" Teddy offered sincerely, presenting her with a half-eaten frog.

"Ew!" Victoire exclaimed in disgust, knocking the chocolate from Teddy's hand. "No way!"

"Okay," Teddy said meekly. "Maybe some other time." He walked away, staring at his feet.

"Poor kid," said Ron, shaking his head sympathetically. "I remember trying to ask a girl out. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done,"

"Asking Victoire's mother to the Yule ball was the hardest thing you've ever done?" said Hermione, cocking one eyebrow. Ron quickly realized his mistake.

"No! No, darling, working up the courage to ask out _this_ little guy's mother was the hardest thing I've ever done. Best thing, too," he said with a grin, placing a hand on his wife's belly.

"Smooth," said Harry, smirking. He turned towards his godson. "OY! Teddy! C'mere!" At the sound of his godfather's voice, the little boy turned his head sharply, turquoise hair swinging into his eyes, and a huge grin split across his face as he ran to Harry and jumped into his arms.

"Hi, Harry!" Teddy squeaked. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper so that only the adults immediately surrounding him could hear, "I don't think Vickie likes me very much,"

"If you keep calling her 'Vickie', I wouldn't be surprised," said Ron with a chuckle.

"If this has got anything to do with Viktor Krum, Ron, I swear—" said Hermione angrily.

"What? No! I was just saying, her name isn't Vickie, it's Victoire, and he—"

"I may be able to help you out, Ted," Harry said quietly, drawing his godson away from the quarreling couple. He crouched down and whispered something that the other adults couldn't hear.

"I can't believe you still haven't let that go, Ronald! It's been ten years since the Yule Ball!"

"I have let it go! That was a coincidence, I swear—"

"You were the one who brought up asking Fleur a few minutes ago, I should have known—"

"That was a joke! I fixed it, didn't I? I corrected myself, didn't I?"

"It was a pretty weak attempt. Even Harry could see that, and he's almost as tactless as you!"

"Where is Harry?"

"He's giving Teddy some advice on how to ask Victoire to dance," said Ginny casually, indicating towards her husband and godson just a few feet away. "If you two would stop bickering for ten seconds you would have realized that ages ago,"

The three of them looked over as Harry was rising to his feet again. Teddy beamed up at his godfather as Harry ruffled his hair playfully and said a few encouraging words.

"I have to admit, when Remus and Tonks made him godfather I thought they were a little cracked ," said Ron, smiling as he watched Harry and Teddy. "But he's turned out to be a pretty good father figure, don't you think?"

"Why would you think he would make a bad one?" said Hermione, half curious and half indignant. Their previous argument seemed to be forgotten already.

"Well, out of the three of us who were on the run, who do you think was the most likely to die?" Ron replied blatantly. Hermione and Ginny looked outraged, clearly hurt by the comment. "Well, it's true! And he's the only one of us who has never had a proper father . . ."

"All the more reason," said Ginny quietly. "for him to prove them wrong. To be a better father to that little boy than he ever got the chance to have for himself,"

Ron looked a little surprised at his sister's ferocity, but he never got the chance to retort because at that moment Harry started walking back over to them, and Teddy ran off in the opposite direction.

"What are you three talking about over here, then?" said Harry cheerfully as he rejoined them, placing his arm automatically around his wife's waist so that his hand could rest almost protectively over her bulging stomach.

"Nothing!" said Hermione, Ron, and Ginny at the same time. Harry looked at them suspiciously for a moment, then apparently decided to drop the subject.

"Right. Well, I think Teddy's got a real shot at it this time. He's going to be a real ladies' man when he gets older, Victoire just doesn't realize it yet,"

"Hey! 'arry!"

Hagrid, carrying an enormous piece of birthday cake in one hand and little James in the other, walked with thundering footsteps from across the garden to join the two couples. He was beaming delightedly through his frosting-encrusted beard, waving his cake-filled hand in the air to get Harry's attention.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry called back.

"How's th' youngest Head Auror in hist'ry, eh? Doin' well? I hear yeh've got another little one on th' way, is tha' right?" said Hagrid good-naturedly.

"I'm not Head Auror yet, Hagrid," said Harry patiently. Beside him, Ginny rolled her eyes. "I've told you a dozen times already that I can't get promoted until Robards retires,"

"Ah, thought they might'a changed th' rules for yeh, though. Since yeh're 'arry Potter an' all," Hagrid winked at Ron and Hermione as he said it. Harry, however, was not amused.

"You know full well I hate it when—"

"Ignore him, Hagrid," cut in Ginny, shushing her husband. "He's being stupid. It's true, though, we're having another baby! In case you can't tell," she gestured at her stomach.

"'course yeh are!" Hagrid boomed, pulling Harry into a bone-crushing hug. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Harry's voice was muffled by Hagrid's huge overcoat.

"Anyway, I jus' came over to give Jamesie back, I'll be on my way, now," Hagrid said happily, releasing Harry and carefully handing him his son. "I see Charlie's on vacation from Romania. Oy! Charlie!"

"Bye Hagrid!" called Hermione, waving.

"Look at Teddy!" Ginny exclaimed, dragging Harry around so they were looking in the same direction. The little boy was approaching Victoire for the second time that day, this time armed with a small bouquet of daisies that he had clearly picked by hand just for her. As the adults watched, he presented the flowers to her with a polite little bow that made him look less like a seven-year-old with blue hair and more like a very small prince.

"Did you tell him to add the bow, Harry?" asked Hermione quietly. "It's a nice touch,"

"No, I just suggested the flowers and what he should say to her," Harry said, his voice threatening to burst with pride. "He must have decided to bow,"

"Oh no!" said Ginny. Victoire had taken one look at the flowers and turned her nose up at them, returning to picking at her cake daintily without giving the little boy a second's thought.

"All right, enough's enough. If Victoire's not going to pay attention to him, we'll _make_ her pay attention to him," growled Ron. "Teddy! TED! Let Uncle Ron help you out, your godfather is clearly inept,"

"Oy!"

"Shut up, Harry, we all know you've never had any luck wooing women," joked Ron.

Harry glanced at Ginny, who nodded at him. Harry smirked as he said in a low voice, "That's funny, considering how I've gotten your sister pregnant twice already,"

"That was below the belt!" yelled Ron while Ginny laughed. "I've given my permission, but that doesn't mean you can make a crack like that—"

"Shut up, Ron!" said Hermione, laughing along with her two best friends. "Go give Teddy your advice," Still glaring at Harry, Ron reluctantly walked toward Teddy and drew him away from the others.

"He's right, you know," Hermione said seriously, glaring at her best friend with a ferocity that Professor McGonagall would be proud of. "That was below the belt,"

"He was asking for it," said Harry defensively.

"All the same," Hermione sighed. "I wonder what he could possibly be telling Teddy to do? As far as I'm concerned, he's had less experience with that sort of thing than you do, Harry,"

Harry glared at her.

"Just because Cho and I—"

"So, Hermione, how's the new Muggleborn legislation going?" interrupted Ginny pointedly. Clearly she didn't want to have a conversation about Harry's ex-girlfriend at their son's first birthday party. Harry refrained from telling her he thought it a bit rich that she would feel jealous when she herself had had at least three boyfriends at Hogwarts apart from her husband.

"Oh!" Hermione, always quick-thinking, had fortunately caught Ginny's hint, and was more than happy to change the subject. "Yes, it's going very well. The Wizengamot are full of my department's supporters by now. A lot of them were on the run during the war, and even more had friends who had been sentenced by Umbridge for supposedly 'stealing' magic. In fact, Kingsley told me they're to make a public announcement supporting our bill next Tuesday. Any chance you two could be there to see it?"

"That's fantastic, Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny. "We'd love to come!"

"I can't, actually. Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "I'm supposed to give a lecture to the Defense class at Hogwarts that day. 'The Dark Arts is a many-headed monster' speech and all that, I really shouldn't miss it,"

"Don't worry about it, that sounds much more fun that my boring legal stuff," Hermione smiled. "Here comes Ron!"

The three of them looked toward where Teddy and Ron were departing each other's company, the former laughing almost manically as he ran off in the direction of the Burrow. Ron strode back to stand beside his wife with an inexplicably smug look on his face.

"What did you tell him?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

Ron grinned. "You'll see in a minute,"

After that, Ginny and Hermione began a conversation about their pregnancies and somehow managed to draw Ron into it. Harry, however, merely looked around the garden at his favorite people, all assembled to celebrate his child's first year on earth. He smiled to himself. He suddenly felt a small tug on the bottom of his jeans and looked down to see James' large brown eyes, so like his mother's, staring up at him under a shock of jet-black hair. "Perfect timing, mate," murmured Harry, leaning down to scoop up his son. "I was just thinking about you,"

James giggled as his father made colorful rings of smoke billow from his wand for him to catch. His tiny fists waved through the air, dissolving the smoke as it touched the little boy's skin. When James accidentally hit Harry's nose instead of the smoke, Harry pretended to be angry and slung the little boy onto his shoulders for a piggy back ride. As he did so, Harry happened to look across the garden towards where Victoire was standing, alone this time, playing with a few of her dolls. The curious thing was not Victoire, however, it was that Teddy was walking towards her carrying a large bucket of some sort of greenish liquid that was sloshing all over the lawn. The bucket was obviously too heavy for the seven-year-old's slight frame.

"Ron," Harry muttered to his best friend as he rejoined the conversation. "What's Teddy doing?"

But Ron clearly wasn't paying any attention to him because he was already looking over Harry's shoulder, watching Teddy. At that moment, Ron nodded his head slightly and made some sort of motion with his arms that Harry didn't understand. "Hey!" Harry tried to get his attention by waving a hand in front of his face. "What in Merlin's name—" He realized what was about to happen less than a moment before it actually did. His desperate shout of "TEDDY, NO!" was in vain.

Frog spawn, thick and slimy and green, splattered all over Victoire's blonde head.

For a moment, there was silence. The shock of seeing perfect little Victoire, in her perfect blue party dress, covered in frog spawn, was enough to make everyone who had seen fall perfectly silent. Without warning, Teddy shouted "HA!", dropped the empty bucket, and ran away.

Victoire's scream of fury resonated through the orchard. It was so loud and shrill that Harry was certain the residents of Ottery St. Catchpole could have heard it. Within seconds, she was on her feet chasing the blur of blue hair that was Teddy Lupin through the garden, frog spawn still flying off of her as she screamed insults at him.

"Now _that_," said Ron, fighting back laughter. "is how you get a girl to notice you."

_A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write, was it your favorite to read so far? Leave a review and let me know! Next chapter is about Ron/Hermione :)_


	4. Set the House on Fire

Ron paced the flat worriedly. In the three years it had been since Voldemort was killed he had never felt so nervous. At this point, even catching sight of one of his girlfriend's belongings was enough to make him shudder with fear. _What if she said no_?

He took a deep, calming breath before deciding what to do next. Glancing at the clock perched on a stack of Hermione's books, which littered every surface in the small living room, he found that he still had an hour until his girlfriend returned from the Ministry. He had requested the afternoon off from George in order to prepare, but now he didn't quite know what to do with his remaining hour. Should he cover the flat in rose petals? Start memorizing poetry? Neither idea appealed to him, nor did he think they would appeal to Hermione. Wracking his brain desperately, Ron suddenly had a stroke of inspiration as he caught sight of the telephone half-buried under yet another pile of books. Of course. Harry would know exactly what to do.

The couple had originally gotten a phone line so that Hermione could call her parents when she wanted, but when Mr. Weasley found out about it he requested that the entire Weasley family get one, including Harry and Ginny. Ron had to admit that at times it was easier and more comfortable than using the Floo network, and now prided himself on being a sort of expert at using the phone.

The other line rang for a rather long time after Ron dialed the numbers, and Harry's voice was muffled as he picked it up, as if someone was covering his head with a pillow. "Hello?"

"Harry?"

"What, Ron?" He sounded exasperated.

"I need some help, mate,"

Harry hesitated a moment, and from the other end Ron could hear giggling. His sister was obviously in the room. "Er, I'm a little busy, actually," Harry's voice got quieter as he turned away from the mouthpiece. "Gin, quit it, will you? It's your brother!" he hissed.

There was more laughter on the other end, then Ron heard Ginny shout, "Ronnie! How are you?"

"Fine, Ginny, thanks,"

"Come on, Harry, hang up on him. I'm going to slip into something more . . . comfortable," she giggled again.

"I heard that!" said Ron indignantly.

"I told you I was busy!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you meant . . . you know," From the other end of the line came the unmistakable sounds of two people kissing. "OY!"

"What?" Harry sounded breathless.

"Stop snogging my sister for two seconds, will you?"

"We're not _really_ snogging!" said Harry indignantly. "It's more of a light snog at this point," Ginny laughed from somewhere apparently across the room. "But give me a few seconds and we'll see where it goes,"

Ron gagged. "Well, leave that alone for an hour and come to the flat, all right? I need you to help me with something."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you when you get here,"

There was a pause. "Can I bring Ginny?"

"NO!"

"So what are we supposedly going to cook? I can make an omelet," said Harry, leaning casually against Ron and Hermione's refrigerator as he bit off the head of yet another Chocolate Frog.

"Toss me one of those, will you?" Ron called entering the kitchen with an armful of spices. Harry obliged, and his friend somehow managed to catch the frog in his mouth by the wrapper. "'fanks!" he said through the plastic.

"No problem," Harry said. He picked up one of the bottles of spice that Ron had been carrying in from the pantry and read the label aloud. "Rosemary? What could –"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding! Rotten luck." Ron interrupted without even noticing that Harry had been in the middle of asking a question. He held up his chocolate frog wrapper dramatically, gesturing angrily at it as he muttered, "Nothing ever goes right. There's _always_ got to be _something_ wrong."

Harry tried hard not to roll his eyes. It was difficult to not sound annoyed as he said, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Bloody frog doesn't even have a wizard card in it! I've been saving them up to make a collage, and I only have to fill in one more spot. Of course I'd get the only Chocolate Frog with no wizard card in it in the whole set—"

"Calm down, all right?" Harry didn't even bother to try sounding less exasperated than he was. "There must have been a mistake with packaging. My frog came with two cards. You can have them both if you want." He held out the cards for his best friend to take.

Ron looked at the cards with a mixture of shame and surprise. "Oh," he said, slightly awkwardly, as he reached out to take the cards. "Cheers,"

"No problem. Now, what exactly are you planning on cooking?"

"Lobster."

"What?"

"I saw it on one of those Muggle telly-vizzen things. The man made his wife lobster for dinner and she went mad over him. It's like a delicacy or something,"

"But—where did you get a lobster? And how do you propose we cook it?"

"I went to that fish place in London. Wasn't that expensive; I just gave the man a Sickle and he went off the deep end. And as for cooking, I was hoping you could help with that," Ron looked at his best friend almost pleadingly. "You grew up with the Dursleys. They're Muggles. And you said in our first year that you cooked for them sometimes, so I figured I couldn't be too hard,"

"Yeah, I cooked for them. Eggs and bacon and stuff!" said Harry. "Lobster is tough,"

"No. We just need to fill a bucket with hot water and drop them in,"

"I meant it's tough to get _right_,"

"Whatever. I'm at least going to try."

Harry looked around the kitchen expectantly. "Right. We're just going to have to wing it, I suppose. So where are these lobsters?"

"Hang on," Ron disappeared into the pantry again, returning with a large bucket apparently full of lobsters. "Okay. Now we need to start cooking them. You know how to work this stove thing?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, striding over to look at the stove. "I know a bit. Put the bucket on top and I'll turn it on. Mind you don't touch it, because the burner's hot,"

Ron did as he was told, and within a few minutes the water within the bucket was beginning to get hot. Just before steam began to issue out the top in tiny wisps, the first lobster managed to climb its way out of the shallow bucket, apparently fed up with the increasingly warm climate.

"Agh! It's escaping, Harry! What do we do?" Ron yelled, backing away.

Harry, almost as panicky as Ron, quickly seized the nearest metal kitchen instrument and attempted to beat the lobster back into the bucket, but even as he managed to subdue one of them, three more lobsters were already dropping onto the kitchen floor and scuttling away. With a yelp of fear Ron chased after them, but as he watched they spread into different directions, seeking refuge under furniture, in the fireplace, and even behind a stack of cauldrons in the corner. For the briefest of moments, the two young men looked at each other. Without a word they both sprinted toward where the lobsters had disappeared in an attempt to retrieve them.

Ten minutes later, Ron called to his best friend, voice muffled by the ottoman he was crouched behind, "Harry! Do you smell something funny?"

"What?"

Harry struggled to extricate himself from under the dining room table, straightening his glasses as he entered the living room to talk with Ron.

"Do you smell something? Burning?"

Harry sniffed at the air. "Yeah, but we didn't—" Realization dawned on his face before he could finish his sentence, and the expression was mirrored on Ron's face. "The stove!" they said together.

Both men ran as fast as they could back to the kitchen, and Ron groaned as the sight of three foot high flames assailed his vision. The bucket, which they had left on the burner, had melted and caught fire. The stove was completely engulfed, flames licking the sides of the appliance hungrily. In unison, Harry and Ron pointed their wands at the fire and yelled "_Aguamenti_!"

In less than five minutes, the flames had abated, and Harry and Ron were left standing breathless in the middle of the soot-stained kitchen. Almost everything was blackened by the flames, but thankfully not burnt to a crisp.

"Close call," said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

"Close call?" Ron croaked. "_Close call_? Half our kitchen's burned away!"

"Well, it could be a lot worse," Harry said brightly.

Ron pulled at his hair, which made him look quite insane. "What am I going to tell Hermione?"

"The truth," Harry replied simply. "C'mon, let's at least find the lobsters. We can sort this mess out later, it shouldn't be that hard,"

Ron gave his best friend a disbelieving glare, but resumed his search of the lobsters without comment. Twenty minutes later, Harry managed to spot one of the crustaceans and shouted out "Gotcha!"

Almost as soon as he reached his hand down to pick it up, Harry snatched it away again with a howl of pain. Ron ran to him and examined the hand in question, which had a bright red blotch on it that looked quite painful. "It pinched me!" Harry cried, putting the part of his hand that was throbbing with agony into his mouth and sucking on it in an attempt to make it feel better. "Didn't you keep the little rubber band things on its claws?"

Ron looked indignant. "Why would I have kept those bloody things on there? You can't eat them, for all I know they could have made us sick!"

"Ron, you idiot," sighed Harry in exasperation. "you're supposed to keep them on so the little buggers don't claw you when you put them in the bucket! Then you cut them off once they're dead and they can't hurt you anymore!"

"How in Merlin's name was I supposed to know that?" shouted Ron. "You're the expert here!"

"Oh, yeah, and as you can see _that's_ been useful to us so far," Harry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Obviously I haven't got a clue what I'm doing, because we're currently crawling around on the floor trying to catch the things that you and Hermione are going to be eating in less than an hour!"

"Less than an hour…" Ron muttered. Suddenly his blue eyes grew as wide as Galleons. "Oh no! Hermione gets back from work in twenty minutes! What am I going to do?" he collapsed back onto the couch, hands covering his face as if to shield him from further misfortune.

"It's ok, Ron, I know what we can do," Harry sat beside his best friend and spoke in comforting tones. He could tell (as no other could, because no one knew Ron better) how stressed out he was. Not about leaving the kitchen in its wrecked state, not even about rampant lobsters, but about whether or not Hermione would say yes. "You stay here and clean up the kitchen a bit, find those lobsters if you can. I'm going to order a pizza, I'll be right back,"

Harry got up and left to use the telephone, but Ron felt like someone had replaced all the blood in his body with solid metal; it kept him anchored, his fear of rejection, like a literal weight. Finally, as he heard Harry's voice talking calmly to someone on the phone in the next room, Ron got to his feet. Sitting around contemplating it wouldn't make things better. All he could do now was exactly as Harry had said; he needed to take care of the things that he could control. And he could start by cleaning the kitchen.

"All right, the pizza should be here in five minutes or so," said Harry as Ron walked through the kitchen door. "I paid them a little extra to make sure it got here on time." He caught sight of his best friend's face at that moment, and asked worriedly, "Are you OK, Ron? You look pale."

"Hm?" Ron asked distractedly, drawing his wand to siphon soot from the walls. "Yeah, fine. Just hoping we sort this out before she comes home,"

"Ron," Harry said soothingly, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "It's going to be fine. If you asked her in the Shrieking Shack I'm pretty sure she'd still say yes. In fact, I know she would,"

"You think so?"

"'course I do," Harry replied with a grin. "She loves you, mate. She has ever since we were eleven years old."

"Nah, no one could have loved me back then. I was an obnoxious little sod,"

"She did. Ever since you saved her from the troll,"

Ron's ears turned beet red. "It was you that—"

_Ding dong._

"I'll get it," said Ron quietly. He still had his wand drawn as he opened the door and began to make up excuses, expecting Hermione to be there. When he saw the pimply teenage pizza delivery boy, he could do nothing but stare in awe.

"One large pizza, extra pepperoni? That'll be—"

Suddenly there was a brilliant white light and a loud bang. Harry sprinted to the door, wondering what on earth had made the sound, and was met by a shocking sight. Ron was standing, his wand still drawn, over an enormous, slimy green slug. It was oozing all over the carpet, feelers wriggling frantically like two haywire antennae. Most disturbing of all, however, was the fact that it was wearing a hat on its sticky head that read "Pop's Pizza".

"Ron!" Harry yelled in distress. "What did you do?"

"I—" Ron seemed to be lost for words. "We've been invaded, Harry! How did the Muggle know where to find us?"

"You idiot, it's the delivery boy!" cried Harry, his voice cracking from the strain. "I told him to come here so that you and Hermione could eat something other than live lobsters for dinner! And now you've turned him into a slug!"

"This Muggle is the _pizza man_?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Ron's face blanched. "And Hermione will be here any minute!"

"It's OK, Ron," said Harry quickly. "It's OK. Just do the counter-curse, we'll wipe his memory, and—"

"Harry, I don't know the counter-curse!"

"What?"

"George used that spell on me once when I insulted his new haircut! He didn't exactly tell me how to undo it, and I was a slug so I don't remember!"

"Well—well I guess we'll have to hide him, then,"

"Where?"

Harry looked frantically around the still-sooty kitchen. "There! In that bottom cabinet!"

"Under the sink?"

"Do you have a better plan?"

Ron looked around desperately, but in the end he was forced to admit, "No."

"Then let's go," Harry said with determination, bending down to pick up one end of the disgusting creature. "If we hurry we might be able to get it out of sight before Hermione gets back,"

"Right," said Ron, also bending down. Both of them slid their hands underneath the slug at the same time, then immediately jumped back in disgust. "Eurgh! I'm not touching that thing,"

"Putting it in there with magic would take too long; it's hard to aim with _Wingardium Leviosa_,"

Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Ron's face went, if possible, even whiter. "Hermione!" he hissed.

Without another second's hesitation, the two young men fearlessly grabbed the snail around the middle and began trying to shove it into the tiny cupboard. "It won't fit!" whispered Harry desperately.

"Here she comes!" Ron groaned. "This is it. She'll leave me for sure."

"No, she won't! Now shut up and push harder!"

"What in Merlin's name are you two doing?"

Harry and Ron swung their heads around, hearts dropping like stones to their feet. They were absolutely covered in slime, and the slug's eyes were starting to pop out of its head from being squeezed into such a small space as the cupboard. And there stood Hermione, still carrying her briefcase for work, staring with shock written all over her face at her boyfriend and Harry.

"Erm, hi there Hermione," said Harry awkwardly. His voice got progressively faster as he tried to leave. "See, Ron just invited me over and we were cooking lobsters and they escaped and a lot of mad things happened, which is why the kitchen is black. And Ron can explain the slug, but I really need to get going, Ginny needs me. We're…er… redecorating the bathroom." Harry rose to his feet, whispered "Good luck, mate," and practically ran out the door.

Ron stared after his best friend in disbelief. Before he could say a word, however, he noticed that Hermione was staring at him, expecting an explanation. "Erm…yeah… w-what Harry said is true. I was trying to surprise you, you see. With dinner. All the Muggles on the telly-vizzen make lobster when they love someone, and I thought—"

Before he could continue, Hermione was in his arms, kissing him full on the mouth. Ron was so shocked it took a moment for him to kiss her back, and even when he did she was already pulling away. "Oh, Ron, you were trying to make me dinner?" Hermione crooned. Ron's confusion deepened at the sight of Hermione standing in the ruined kitchen, kissing her slimed boyfriend, positively glowing with happiness. "That was such a sweet thought,"

"Well, I… er… There's pizza if you're hungry,"

"That sounds lovely," Ron realized that she actually meant what she said. But as Hermione looked around the kitchen with raised eyebrows, he braced himself for an attack. It never came. Instead, Hermione merely continued, "But let's eat in the living room, OK?"

"Yeah," said Ron weakly, going over to where the pizza was still sitting on the doormat. He brought it into the living room along with the champagne he'd bought for the occasion. The two of them snuggled up on the couch, covered in slime and pizza sauce, balancing champagne glasses on their knees. And suddenly Ron realized that there would be no better time. He needed to do it. Now.

"Hermione," he began softly. "This isn't exactly how I pictured doing this, but I love you. I really do. And—and I want to show you how much I love you every single day of the year, every moment that you're with me. I want you to know it every time I hold your hand, or mess up a spell and ask for help, or try to make you lobster for dinner. Every time you look at me, I want the entire world to know we're in love. And I reckon the only way for me to do that is to put a ring on your finger, one that screams to the whole wizarding world that you're mine, and I'm yours. Forever,"

Hermione had tears in his eyes. He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but Ron pulled the little black box from his robes and opened it. This was the moment. He took a deep breath. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

She couldn't fight the grin that was spreading across her face now. She was absolutely radiant with joy, and even though she was covered in slug slime and pizza sauce and soot, Ron thought she had never looked more beautiful. Especially after she shrieked the word, "Yes!"

_A/N: Well, what do you think? I hope that you're all enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Have any of you figured out my little game? I'll give you a hint: A certain symbol/object has appeared in every chapter so far and will appear in every chapter to come. Super-mega-brownie points to anyone who guesses the meaning behind it…All will be revealed in chapter seven. Good luck, and thanks again for your support!_


	5. Tell Her it Was For a Dare

"All right, James. Truth or dare?"

"Moony! You now me better than that."

"Dare it is," Remus smiled knowingly at his best friend. "Of course. All right. I dare you to…" his voice trailed off as he looked expectantly around the school grounds. It was nearly summertime at Hogwarts, and nearly O.W.L. time for the Marauders and their fifth year classmates. James, Sirius, Lupin, and Peter, always eager to goof off, had decided to play a game of Truth or Dare as they lounged next to the lake on that warm Sunday afternoon.

"I dare you to kiss the Giant Squid!" Remus cried suddenly, looking gleefully at the lake's dark and ominous depths. Sirius and Peter made sounds of simultaneous disgust and euphoria, but James simply laughed.

"Easy." he said, the very picture of nonchalance. Without further ado, he promptly walked up to the water's edge, staring beadily at the enormous tentacles basking there as if expecting them to jump up and grab him. When they did no such thing, James leaned down with his face as close as possible to the water and, before the others could say a word, kissed one of the tentacles with much bravado. Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail shouted their laughter to the sky and clapped, looking impressed. Sirius whistled between his teeth, causing James to bow with a flourish.

James flopped back down next to his friends, an arrogant grin plastered to his face. "My turn. Padfoot, truth or dare?"

"Dare!"

Prongs was silent as he considered the most entertaining thing he could make his best friend do. Finally, as he was looking out absentmindedly over Hogwarts' sloping green lawns, he had it.

"I dare you to get Chelsea Perkins alone in our dormitory with you!"

Sirius's mouth fell open. Chelsea Perkins was a goddess on earth. Untouchable. Unparalleled. She was a seventh year, and easily the most popular, beautiful girl at Hogwarts. For her to even look at you was almost as rare as seeing a troll translating Ancient Runes.

"James, that's impossible! Merlin himself couldn't do it,"

"Yeah, but Merlin didn't have your good looks and boyish charms, Padfoot," taunted James cheekily, crossing his arms stubbornly to show he wouldn't back down. Sirius glared at him. "You _have_ to do it, Sirius," he said with a roguish grin. "I dared you,"

"He's right," chimed in Remus. "you've got to."

"I know! I know, O.K.?" Sirius burst angrily. He looked around the grounds as if hoping for a way out of it. When he found nothing, he looked back at James. "You realize that it'll be impossible to do in one day, don't you Prongsie? Give me a bit of time,"

James tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What do you think, Moony? Shall we oblige the scoundrel?"

Remus copied his friend's tone as he replied, "The scalawag does have a point, you know…"

"Yes, indeed. This rogue—"

"All right, cool it with this 'scalawag' business," snapped Sirius. "You've been spending too much time with Sir Cadogan, it's not healthy. Do I get more time or not?"

"I suppose you can," said James, still grinning mischievously. "You have until…Friday!"

"_Friday_? Aw, c'mon—"

"No buts!"

"That's not even enough—"

"You remember what happens if you don't do a dare, right Padfoot?"

Sirius shuddered. "Fine. Friday is fine. You just wait, she'll be head over heels in love with me by then!"

The other three Marauders fell onto the grass laughing.

**MONDAY**

"Wish me luck, lads!" called Sirius boisterously as he swaggered into the Great Hall during breakfast. James and Peter looked up, but Remus was too immersed in the _Dailey Prophet_ to notice what was going on around him. "I'm about to introduce myself to Chelsea,"

"Oh, excellent," James said excitedly, his mouth full of eggs. "Moony! You're going to want to see this; Sirius's about to make a fool of himself for the first time in front of Chelsea,"

"I am not going to make—"

"Shut up and get over there, Padfoot," interrupted James, gesturing over to the other side of the table, where Chelsea was pouring herself pumpkin juice, surrounded by friends. "Time's a-wasting."

Sirius glared. Clearly he had been hoping for a little more support in the matter, but he didn't dwell on it. Instead he marched straight over to the end of the Gryffindor table without another word.

"Wow, no one told me there would be a _veela_ at Hogwarts this year!" said Sirius coolly as he approached Chelsea. She looked momentarily taken aback; apparently she wasn't used to having random fifth years hit on her.

"Excuse me?" she sputtered, looking at her friends as they tried to suppress their laughter.

"Aren't you a veela?" said Sirius. He was overdoing his surprise, but he figured he may as well milk it for all it was worth. Which is why he continued fearlessly, "With a face as pretty as yours, I just assumed that you weren't human. My mistake, of course. Clearly you're better than a veela; you're an angel,"

"Beat it, Romeo," snapped Chelsea, turning back to her toast. "I'm not interested,"

"Wait!" cried Sirius desperately. Lucky for him his voice was distressed enough for her to turn back around. "I don't even know your name, and you don't know mine. It's only polite."

Chelsea rolled her eyes and made to turn back around, but then one of her friends piped up, "Oh, go on, Chels. What's it going to hurt? He's actually kinda cute,"

Chelsea snorted. "Yeah, if I were a first year he would be," Her friends gave her a look, and with a long, dramatic sigh she said, "My name's Chelsea. Chelsea Perkins. And you are—?"

"I'm—"

Unfortunately, right at that moment, Avery walked by. As a Slytherin, he was resentful of Gryffindor's recent win against his Quidditch team, and even though Sirius didn't play, Avery obviously associated him with James, who was the main reason the Slytherins were beaten so soundly. Apparently Avery decided to take his revenge then and there, and there was nothing poor Sirius could do as the Slytherin shoved him so hard that he fell face-first into Chelsea's bowl of porridge.

For the briefest of moments, there was silence in the area immediately around them. Everyone at the table watched with bated breath as Sirius carefully removed his face from the porridge bowl, the goopy, greyish mush sticking obscenely to his cheeks and chin. Then, Chelsea laughed. Not a "oh-you're-so-cute-you-poor-thing" kind of laugh, but the "haha-you-loser-too-bad-for-you" kind. That set off the whole rest of the table, who seemed to have been waiting for Chelsea's cue.

Sirius stomped back to his friends with his reddening face still covered in porridge.

**TUESDAY**

"Would you three hurry up? We're going to be late!" snarled Remus, virtually dragging James and Sirius down the corridor. Peter was even further behind, huffing and puffing his way past each suit of armor, his arms laden with books and quills because he'd forgotten his bag.

"Moony, it's too early for this sort of thing," yawned James irritably, dragging his feet. "You _know_ we usually skive off Herbology the day after the full moon,"

"Yes, but today Sprout said we'd be dealing with Flutterby bushes!"

"So?"

"So she specifically said they would come up on the O.W.L.!"

"Whatever," muttered Sirius, moving even more slowly than James. "I don't—" he stopped suddenly as Chelsea Perkins walked by, chattering to the same group of friends who had been with her the day before in the Great Hall. "I'll catch you up later,"

"Did you not hear a word I just said? This is the _O.W.L.s_ we're talking—"

"Sirius, what if you get a detention? Sprout said last time—"

"Don't leave me alone with these two, Padfoot!" yelled James as his best friend ran down the corridor towards Chelsea. Sirius ignored all three of them.

As he rounded the next corner, he finally spotted Chelsea again, blessedly alone and adjusting her school bag over her shoulder as she walked. With a sigh of relief, Sirius called, "CHELSEA! Wait up!"

Chelsea turned around with a look of mild curiosity on her face. Her features changed dramatically to something between amusement and annoyance, however, as she saw who had called her name. Unfazed by this, Sirius finally caught up to her, breathing like a winded hippogriff.

"I was wondering," he said, attempting to regain his composure. "if you were free this weekend?"

"I'm sorry, are you asking me out on a _date_?"

"Yes!" Sirius cried, exalted that she had caught on so fast. "Fancy a drink at the Three Broomsticks?"

She was looking suspicious now. "It's not a Hogsmeade weekend… How are we allowed to leave?"

"We're not, technically," said Sirius roguishly. "But I know a lot of ways to get in and out of the castle without being detected. _In and out_, get it?" He winked, employing his most charming smile.

Chelsea slapped him.

Apparently she was not impressed with his sexual innuendo.

**WEDNESDAY**

"Middle of the week. Time is running out, Padfoot!" cajoled James as he effortlessly made his pineapple tap-dance across the desk. Professor Flitwick gave him an approving nod from the other side of the room. "And you know what happens when you lose a dare,"

Peter chuckled as he said, "Ooh, I wouldn't want to be you if that happens,"

"There's no need to remind me how bad that'll be, thanks," snapped Sirius, gritting his teeth both in reaction to his friends' taunts and also because his pineapple was swelling at an alarming rate instead of tap-dancing. "I get it."

"Get on with it already, and you won't have to worry about it anymore!"

"I'm trying!" said Sirius in exasperation. "Or didn't you notice my face covered in porridge Monday? Or the giant welt on my cheek?"

"Believe me, Padfoot, the entire school saw your messed up face,"

"All right, that's it!" Sirius rose determinedly from his seat and walked over to his bag. Pulling out a sheath of parchment, he quickly folded it into a paper crane and shoved it under Remus' nose. "Make it fly,"

"What?"

"Charm it so it'll fly around the room when I let it go,"

"No!"

"Remus…" Sirius lowered his voice and leaned in threateningly. "Don't make me tell everyone about that business with Moaning Myrtle in our third year,"

Remus groaned as James roared with laughter. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Yes."

A moment's hesitation in which the werewolf seemed to weigh his options, but in less than a minute Remus snatched the origami bird away from his friend and spat, "Fine.

"When at last Sirius was content with the crane's ability to fly, he hid it in the folds of his robes and raised his hand politely. "Professor?" he called. Flitwick looked up from where he was praising Lily Evans' handiwork. "Could I use the bathroom?"

After he was dismissed, Sirius hurried along the corridor to where he knew Chelsea's Transfiguration class to be. It had taken a lot of bribing to get the second year she tutored to tell him what class she had at this time, but he hoped it would be worth it. He took a moment to catch his breath before stepping into the classroom.

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but I need to see Miss Perkins for a moment," said Sirius in his best sucking-up-to-teacher voice. "She has an urgent message from the Headmaster," McGonagall nodded curtly at him and resumed looking over the essays her students were in the process of handing in, waving Chelsea out of the room.

Chelsea looked utterly bewildered, and luckily for Sirius she seemed not to care that the last time he'd seen her she had slapped him across the face. Evidently she was more upset about getting called out of class by Dumbledore at the moment. If Sirius hadn't spent more of the last five years in trouble than out of it, he would be able to understand why she was so worried. As it was, however, he couldn't quite grasp why this was such a big deal.

"What is it? Have I done something wrong?" Chelsea asked worriedly.

"No, no, you're a perfect student, Chelsea," said Sirius smoothly. "Actually, Dumbledore never sent for you. I brought you out here to tell you that I love you, and I hope that someday you can grow to love me too," Sirius handed her the origami crane, which flew around her head a few times before landing elegantly on her shoulder.

This may have still turned out all right if Sirius hadn't kissed her at that moment.

"How dare you?" Chelsea screeched, wrenching her head away from him and wiping her mouth in disgust. She screamed a hex, and suddenly massive boils were erupting all over Sirius' already abused face.

**THURSDAY**

"I'm doomed,"

"You're doomed, Padfoot,"

Sirius groaned and put his face in his hands. Usually food was an acceptable cure for just about anything, but as he sat at the Gryffindor table with the other three Marauders that night at dinner, even the trifle sitting before him couldn't distract him from his heavy heart. "Only twenty-four hours left to get Chelsea in our dorm room. Or else—"

"—or else hello public humiliation!" chimed in James excitedly. "I'm looking forward to it,"

"Shall I bring the popcorn, Prongs?"

"Oh, most definitely, Moony."

"And I'll bring the butterbeer!"

"Very good, Wormtail."

"What are you four going on about _now_?"

The Marauders turned violently in their seats as Lily Evans appeared behind them. Automatically, James' whole attitude changed. He was suddenly smooth and charming; his sarcastic comments disappeared so fast it seemed they'd Apparated from his mind. "Lily!"

"Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Oh!" James, for the first time, seemed momentarily flustered. But being James Potter he recovered fairly quickly. "Right. Yeah, we were just planning our next Hogsmeade visit,"

Lily eyed him suspiciously. "We just had one last weekend, and the next isn't until Valentine's Day."

"We like to get a head start on things like that. And speaking of Valentine's Day—"

"No."

"You didn't even listen to the question!"

"I didn't need to. You've been asking the same thing for four years. My answer is still the same!"

"Lils, just give me one chance, just one, and…"

His voice trailed off as he got up from the table and followed Lily out of the Great Hall, still trying to convince her to go on a date with him.

Sirius, still worried about what was going to happen to him if he couldn't convince Chelsea to go up to the dormitory with him, reached for a Chocolate Frog in an attempt to calm himself down. As he did so, however, Remus grabbed his wrist and said quietly, "I wouldn't eat that if I were you,"

Sirius wrenched his arm away. "Why not? Chocolate makes me feel better."

"This chocolate won't," said Remus. "James spiked it with infusion of Gurdyroots. I think the idea was to try and get you to puke in front of Chelsea."

The other boy quickly dropped the Chocolate Frog, looking disgusted. Yet he also felt strangely reassured by how Remus had been so straightforward with him . . . Peter was engrossed in his cherry pie, so Sirius took the opportunity to lean in conspiringly to talk to his friend. "Remus, what am I going to do? Chelsea's been going out of her way (literally) to avoid me all day, and I have no idea how to even look her in the eye again, let alone ask her to come to our dormitory! And there is absolutely no way I'm ever going to— you know—"

Sirius looked at his friend anxiously, almost pleadingly.

"It'll be all right," Remus consoled. When Sirius didn't look convinced, he tried a new tactic. "Look, did you ever try just telling her the truth?"

"Moony, that has got to be the _corniest_ bit of advice—"

"I'm not joking! Just tell her that James dared you, and see what happens. It can't hurt, not unless you pull another stupid stunt and try to kiss her,"

"Hey, she was leading me on—"

Remus laughed. "I'll believe that when I see it. Now come on, let's get James before he makes a complete fool of himself in front of Evans again,"

**FRIDAY**

"Do you give up, Padfoot?" said James. The Marauders were sitting in the chintz armchairs closest to the fire, each nursing a butterbeer they'd managed to convince the house-elves in the kitchens to let them have. The sun had set hours ago, and now that people had started finishing their homework a boisterous mood was settling over the Gryffindor common room. It was infectious enough to make James forget about his previous embarrassment with Lily and resort to making fun of Sirius again.

"No! As a matter of fact, I have a plan."

James snorted. "Well, you're running out of time, so get moving. I want to see this,"

Crossing his arms defiantly, Sirius said, "Don't mind if I do," Without another word, he strode right over to the table where Chelsea was filling in a chart of Jupiter's moons and started to talk with her. The Marauders watched eagerly as her expression turned from her initial anger, to discomfort, to surprise, and finally to…understanding?

"What's going on?" James said worriedly. "What did he say to her?"

"I dunno, I can't hear…" Peter replied, staring desperately at Sirius as if that would improve his hearing. Remus, however, remained silently immersed in his book. Only his friends' gasps of shock and admiration were enough to make him remove his nose from the dusty page, and as he looked up he was amused to see Sirius leading Chelsea up the steps to the boys' dormitory.

"I can't believe it!"

"He did it!"

"What did he _say_ to her?"

"He must have bewitched her or something…"

Even Chelsea's friends were looking curiously at the dormitory steps, and within a few minutes the entire common room was buzzing with gossip and rumors about Sirius Black and Chelsea Perkins. Ten minutes later, the couple in question emerged from the spiral staircase and the room fell silent. Sirius was looking smug, Chelsea slightly embarrassed but not altogether displeased. Nonchalantly, Sirius swaggered over to the armchairs his three best friends were occupying and casually collapsed onto one of them as though nothing had happened. As soon as he did, James and Peter bombarded him with questions.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," Sirius interrupted them before things got out of hand. "You'll just have to accept that I'm the classiest, most charming, most delightful—"

"All right, now you're laying it on thick!" cut in James. "What happened?"

In response, Sirius merely shrugged. "All I know is that I won't have to run into Potions naked on Monday yelling about my 'Venomous Tentacula'." At this, James, Remus, and Peter all burst out laughing.

James patted his best friend on the back proudly and said, "You've got to teach me how you do it, mate. I could probably use the same thing on Evans!"

"Honesty is the best policy, Prongsie," replied Sirius, winking at Remus. "Honestly."

_A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!_


	6. Just Start Stripping

The clock on the wall chimed eight times, echoing through the otherwise silent library like a cannon blast. Hermione jumped violently at the noise, nearly spilling her ink bottle over the stacks of books and rolls of parchment that littered the table before her. She sighed, and had only just decided she should be getting back to the Gryffindor common room when a large figure loomed before her and sat heavily in the chair opposite.

"Evening, Granger,"

Hermione tried (only for the sake of politeness) not to look too disgusted as Cormac McLaggen lounged casually before her, a sickeningly smug smile stuck on his face like Stinksap. "Hello," she replied curtly, keeping her eyes on her books.

McLaggen didn't seem to be able to take a hint. Or, if he did take the hint, he didn't act upon his suspicions. He ploughed on like a freight train, "You're quite pretty, you know," Hermione's face grew hot. Was there some reason why the kid's eyes were stuck on her? Maybe someone had cursed him so he could only stare at one thing at a time. This seemed unlikely, but Hermione preferred the idea to its alternative: that he was staring at her because he wanted to. She suppressed a shudder as McLaggen continued mercilessly, "I'd bet that you're pretty on the inside, too. If you'd let me, I'd love to find out some time…" He winked. Hermione glared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I want to get to know you better, Granger. Maybe over a butterbeer ? Or…" he leaned in and whispered deviously, "I'm pretty well known at the Hog's Head. The barkeep there is convinced that I'm an employee at the Ministry, Department of Magical Games and Sports, and that I come up to Hogsmeade on weekends to scout for potential Quidditch players for England. He'd sell me firewisky any day, and then we could…you know…" He winked again.

"Absolutely not," Hermione replied coldly. "I'm a prefect, in case you didn't realize. I can't go gallivanting around with you drinking firewisky!"

"So if you weren't a prefect, you'd do it?"

"No!" she hissed. "And if you'll excuse me, I need to put these books back," Hermione gathered a large pile of encyclopedias and marched away to a different section of the library. Unfortunately, McLaggen followed her.

"Here, let me get those for you."

"No, I can manage it, thank you."

"Hang on for two seconds, will you?" McLaggen jumped in front of her, hindering her path to the shelf she'd been heading for. Hermione rolled her eyes, but waited for him to finish his sentence. Maybe if she tolerated him long enough, he'd get bored and go away. "Right. I was actually wondering if… You know Slughorn's Christmas party is coming up, and we're meant to bring a date—"

"No." Hermione interrupted. There was no way in _hell_ she'd ever go to that party with him.

He looked disappointed. "Why not? Are you going with someone else?"

"Yes," she said, without thinking.

"Who?"

"Er—" Hermione hesitated, wracking her brain. "Harry Potter."

"Oh." McLaggen looked really put out now. Apparently he realized that Harry _would_ be a better date than he would be. Suddenly he looked suspicious. "Wait. I thought you two were just friends?"

"Yes, we are. We're going together for convenience's sake."

"Well, now you can have an actual date! With me."

"Haven't I just told you no?"

"I'm giving you another chance."

"Look," Hermione slammed the encyclopedias down on the nearest table. They were starting to make her arms hurt, and McLaggen was starting to make her brain hurt. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now, got it horklump head? Now go away."

"What about Weasley?"

Hermione, who had been in the process of marching away with haughty dignity, stopped in her tracks. Turning around quickly, she was infuriated to see McLaggen standing there looking smug again. Someone needed to tell the kid that adopting that stupid look made everyone want to punch him in the face. Or maybe it was just him in general that made people want to punch him in the face. Either way, she wished she could curse him into oblivion. "What about him?"

"Well," McLaggen said with mock casualness. He forced his hands into his pockets and strolled leisurely back toward Hermione. "I _heard_ that you two fancied each other, but of course that could have been just a rumor…"

"That's none of your business," Hermione huffed, regaining her composure.

"So you do fancy him?"

"I never said that!"

"You never _not_ said that."

"Would you shut up and go away?"

"As you wish," McLaggen bowed ridiculously low and started backing away slowly. Hermione rolled her eyes. "But first, would you accept this gift from me?" Hermione turned back around to find that he was holding a box of Chocolate Frogs out to her.

"No, thank you."

"More for me, I suppose," he said with a shrug. Without further ado McLaggen opened the box and started stuffing frogs into his mouth two or three at a time. Hermione tried not to look loo disgusted as he attempted to talk to her through a mouthful of chocolate, "'oo are miffing out, 'ranger! 'Fese ur so gud!"

At that moment, Hermione seriously considered saying something extremely rude to him without caring about his feelings. Before she could tell him exactly how repulsive he was being, however, Madam Pince was bearing down on him like a vulture.

"Out! Out! How many times do I have to tell you children not to bring food into my library?" she shouted, disturbing the calm silence that she fought so hard to maintain. McLaggen winked at Hermione one last time (she really wished he'd stop doing that) and ran from the library.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone. Finally, he was gone. She could put away the rest of her books in peace and make her way back to the common room. Harry and Ron were probably still awake, and they'd most likely want help doing their potions essays… She smiled to herself. Hermione would never admit it to anyone, but anything (even correcting potions essays) that gave her an excuse to talk to Ron, to be close to him, she looked at as an opportunity. An opportunity she wouldn't miss for anything.

Hermione was still thinking about her favorite ginger when she walked out of the library ten minutes later, and was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn't notice McLaggen until he jumped in front of her suddenly, at which point she shrieked in surprise and nearly dropped her bag.

"Want to ride my broomstick, Granger?" he said cheekily.

Hermione, affronted beyond coherent speech, sputtered unintelligibly, "Wha—how—you stup—NO!" At this, she turned around and walked the other way down the corridor. Even though she knew it would take her a lot longer to get to the common room this way, it was worth it to escape McLaggen's company. Unfortunately, he decided to chase after her.

"Wait! Granger, I was only messing with you! Look, I really—"

"Go away!" she yelled back at him.

But he was faster than he looked. In a matter of seconds he'd caught up to her.

"C'mon Granger. I know you feel _something_ for me! After all, who wouldn't want a piece of THIS!" To Hermione's horror, the revolting boy started trying to rip his shirt off his chest, apparently trying to impress her. All he managed to do was frighten her so much she literally ran down the corridor, more eager than ever to get to the safety of the common room, where there were witnesses. Witnesses were always good when it came to creepy people trying to take their clothes off around you.

Cormac was still trying to take his shirt off, and as it was over his head he couldn't see anything in front of him. Which meant he didn't know Hermione wasn't even in the same part of the castle as he was anymore. He heard footsteps approaching, and (assuming that Hermione had finally come to her senses and realized how attractive he was) he tried disentangling himself with a newfound vigor. By the time he'd finally ripped it over his head, he was so elated with himself that he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Come and get some!"

The problem was, the person standing before him wasn't Hermione.

The person standing before him wasn't even a _girl_.

It was Snape.

_A/N: I know this was a really short chapter, guys and I'm sorry! Hopefully the next chapter will make up for it though… It's already written, and I have to say that it's probably my favorite. It's also the LAST of the story, so I'd definitely love some reviews if you haven't already! Thanks for reading!_


	7. Kiss Her in the Pouring Rain

"…so raise your wands, and your butterbeers, to the couple that I owe everything to. Ron and Hermione, may your lives be long and happy, and may your time together be as magical as it has been after all these years of pretending to hate each other." Harry raised his butterbeer over the heads of the crowd and shouted, "To Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley!" The Three Broomsticks echoed, ending with a floor-shaking cheer.

Harry jumped down from the chair he was standing on and was immediately pulled into a gruff hug by Ron. "You didn't have to make a toast, mate!" the ginger yelled over the din of the crowd, rumpling Harry's already untidy hair.

" 'course I did!" Harry replied indignantly as he somehow managed to disentangle himself from his best friend's grasp. "I'm your best man!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't make a speech at your wedding,"

"Yes you did, Ron," Hermione cut in. She still had tears on her cheeks from listening to Harry's speech, yet she was beaming nonetheless.

"You were probably too plastered, you wouldn't remember it," Ginny joined the conversation as she fought her way through the crowd to be with the three of them. She kissed Harry on the cheek and said, before Ron could interject with an angry retort, "That was some speech,"

Harry shrugged. "They deserve it."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione was crying again, and Ron looked sulky as she threw her arms around Harry's neck. "You're the sweetest!"

"Ahem,"

"Sorry, Ron," Hermione turned and kissed her husband full on the mouth. "_Second_ sweetest."

"We'll leave you two to talk to your many admirers, then," said Ginny, taking Harry's hand and leading him away with a small smile. "We'll see you later!"

"Bye!" called Hermione as, sure enough, friends and family started to surround the couple completely.

Harry and Ginny walked towards the bar, sat down, and each ordered a butterbeer. While they were waiting, Harry pulled a Chocolate Frog out of his pocket. "Want one?" he asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You _know_ I have a match tomorrow! I need to eat healthy, Gwen—"

"Who cares about Gwen? Your brother just got married! You can't eat like a rabbit every day, you know."

"I do _not_ eat like a rabbit!"

"Yes you do."

"Only on the days before a match!"

"Fine," Harry said, unwrapping the frog. "I guess I'll just have to eat it myself. Mmm . . ."

Ginny watched him coldly as he took a small, but very slow and deliberate, bite.

"I hate you," she snarled, grabbing the frog from him and eating it.

Harry grinned smugly, leaning in to kiss her on the neck. "I love you . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ginny sounded irritated, but her smile gave her away. At that moment, their butterbeers arrived and the two of them got up from the bar and looked around the room for someone else to talk with.

"C'mon, let's go sit with Neville and Seamus," Harry suggested, taking the lead and aiming for a table towards the back of the pub. Ginny nodded and followed him.

Neville, Seamus, Dean, and George were all sitting at a booth playing Exploding Snap and drinking their butterbeers, laughing and joking raucously and reminiscing over old stories. They looked like they were having a good time, but Harry decided he wasn't really in the mood for such a boisterous atmosphere. He turned to Ginny and said so.

"Well, all right, let's go sit with Luna and Lavender,"

"Lavender's here?" Harry gasped, stopping in his tracks. "Lavender Brown?"

"Either that or she's got an identical twin we didn't know about who was also attacked by a werewolf," Ginny said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Come on, let's go,"

But Harry stayed rooted to the spot. "Gin, you _know_ I think she's annoying."

"Fine," Ginny sighed, clearly getting impatient. "Would you rather sit with Michael?"

"Michael?"

"Yeah, Michael Corner. You remember him, right?"

"I—what – how could—NO!"

Ginny laughed and said, "I was joking! It was a joke! For Merlin's sake, Harry, calm down. And put your wand away, will you?"

"That was not funny." He glared at her.

"It was funny."

"It was a little funny."

"It was funny."

"Fine, it was funny."

"I know," said Ginny smugly, kissing him on the cheek again. "Let's go take a walk,"

The two of them looked around cautiously to make sure no one saw them leave, then stepped out onto Hogsmeade's main road. The Three Broomsticks' sign creaked behind them as they walked further away from the ruckus inside the little pub, but apart from that they needn't have concerned themselves with what was going on at Madam Rosmerta's booming little business.

High Street was ablaze with late afternoon sunlight, which washed over the crooked cobblestones and dusty shops. It was April, and the shopkeepers could still be seen going about their annual spring cleaning; dusting cauldrons, sweeping porches, and setting up new displays of jelly slugs and licorice wands. Outside the post office, a wizard with a wispy beard was straightening a pile of spare parchment that was taller than he was, while owls of every size and color stared at him through the shop windows. Zonko's was almost the liveliest shop on the street, but it could never compare to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which stood right in the middle of everything, blazing purple and orange signs instantly grabbing the attention of even the most stoic little witch. Overhead, birds were tweeting and singing, sharing news with each other that they'd saved up all winter. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, familiar skyline acting almost as a beacon to Harry, who hadn't set foot in the place since the last repairs had been finished nearly six years ago.

"Their wedding was beautiful," said Ginny as she took Harry's hand and started meandering down the busy street.

"Mmm," Harry agreed, smiling down at her. "Not as beautiful as—"

"Don't you dare use that corny compliment on me, Harry Potter."

"I wasn't!" Harry said quickly. "I was going to say it wasn't as beautiful as our wedding!"

Ginny eyed him suspiciously, but let it go.

"Well, all right. I suppose that's true enough," she said.

"Luckily I had such a master designer do all the visual stuff," Harry said softly, squeezing his wife's hand. "All that color coordinating gave me a headache,"

"Their colors were nice!" Ginny said defensively, not eager to bash their best friends' wedding. "I am personally a huge fan of sky blue,"

"I didn't say their colors weren't nice!" He paused before continuing, "But we did have the Weird Sisters at ours, mind you . . . And some very famous Quidditch players . . ."

"Luckily I have such a rich and famous husband to pull all kinds of strings," crooned Ginny, putting her head on Harry's shoulder as they walked. "The Minister of Magic himself would show up in nothing but a tutu if the Boy Who Lived asked him to,"

Harry pursed his lips. "Quit it, all right? I'm sorry I almost used a corny pick-up line on you, ok?"

"Come on, when are you going to stop being so shy about how famous you are? You killed Voldemort, you deserve a little special treatment," reasoned Ginny.

"I don't deserve the stupid _Daily Prophet_ photographers following me everywhere," he mumbled.

At this, Ginny laughed. "True enough. But that's my point! You already have to deal with the bad parts of being famous, why not enjoy some of the perks while you can?"

"Because that's taking advantage of people."

"Not if they owe you their lives!"

"Don't be dramatic. No one owes me their lives, they all fought—"

"Please tell me you're joking," Ginny's eyes flashed; she was actually angry now. "Did anyone else go into that forest to—"

"Can we talk about something else?"

For a moment, she looked as though she would have dearly loved to scream "NO!" in his face and carry on with her rant, but she bit her tongue. Harry let out a sigh of relief as she said simply, "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."

"Do you think we should start heading back?" he suggested, ignoring her last comment. They'd gone almost to the very end of the street, and the Three Broomsticks was already quite far behind them.

"No, let's keep going. Believe it or not, even when you're being a prat I like spending time with you," Ginny grinned at him, pushing his glasses further up his nose playfully.

"Very funny," Harry replied sarcastically, though he smiled wryly. "You're just full of wit and hilarity today, aren't you?"

"I guess I am," said Ginny with a laugh. The two of them strolled leisurely down the street, unbothered by the idea of their friends and family waiting for them inside the Three Broomsticks. Suddenly, a ring of dark blue clouds that had been threatening to extinguish the sun's rays all afternoon achieved its goal. The crowded street grew overcast in less than a minute, the gleaming windows dulled, and a heavy rain began to fall. Shopkeepers up and down the street glared up at the sky, cursing the weather for robbing them of a good sales day, then grabbed their various wares and took cover inside their establishments. Their customers followed suit, often simply dashing inside the nearest building. Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and started to do the same, but her husband resisted her.

"Harry, what are you doing? Let's go inside before my dress gets ruined!"

"I'll buy you fifty more dresses exactly like it," said Harry with a wink, not letting go of her hand. "Now, come on! A bit of rain never hurt anyone."

"It melted the Wicked Witch of the West. You told me that."

"You're a witch, but I you're not wicked. I think you're safe."

Ginny glared at him, then stuck out her tongue like a wronged six year old. Harry laughed and pulled her into the center of the street.

"Harry, what are you—?"

But before she could finish her sentence, Harry had put one hand on her waist, holding one of her hands in his own and gently placing the other on his shoulder. Ginny looked down at herself and realized that they looked like they were about to waltz. Realizing that her husband meant to dance with her in the pouring rain, in the middle of Hogsmeade's High Street, she threw her head back and laughed. She looked like she was tasting the rain, but Harry could feel her shaking with laughter. And then they were dancing, by no means gracefully, but dancing nonetheless. There was no music, but they twirled and tangoed and twisted all the same, not caring at all that the people inside the shops were staring at them, not caring at all that they were soaked to the skin and freezing. The harder the rain fell, the harder they laughed, until they had to lean on each other to keep from 1

falling over from laughing so hard.

"I thank you for the dance, madam," said Harry with a mockingly pompous air, bending down to kiss the back of her hand. "and I pray that you will allow me the pleasure of puddle-dancing with you again someday."

"Why, of course, good sir," Ginny replied, adopting the same tone. "You are by far the most skilled puddle-dancer I have ever had the good fortune to meet!"

"And the only one, too, I reckon." Harry said with a grin.

Ginny laughed. "Yes, you're definitely the only man to ever dance with me in the street, in the pouring rain."

By that point, the downpour had become little more than a drizzle of rain, but the residents of Hogsmeade still didn't dare to venture outside their various shelters. Ginny looked up and down the street once more to be sure of this, then looked back at her husband. With a mischievous smile on her face, she kicked her heels off and pushed them to the side of the road. Then, with one final backward glance at Harry, she jumped as hard as she could into the nearest puddle, spraying her husband with muddy water.

Harry looked down at his now completely filthy dress robes and chuckled. "I'll get your for that," he said softly, running a hand through his soaking hair like a busy worker rolling up his sleeves.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try." jeered his wife.

With a laugh, Harry jumped into another puddle, effectively splattering Ginny's lilac dress with brown sludge. Spontaneously, it started to rain harder again, as April showers are apt to do. This acted almost as a cue to Harry and Ginny, who went up and down the street jumping in every puddle they came across, shouting and shrieking with laughter. When they had worn themselves out at last, both simultaneously collapsed in the street, breathing hard. Ginny rested her head on Harry's shoulder and laughed breathlessly, while he carefully wiped her sopping hair out of her face.

"Hey." said Ginny after a few minutes.

"Hey, what?"

"I love you."

"That's why you married me."

Ginny glared at him until he replied, "Oh, yeah, and I love you too."

"Just so you know, I only married you because you bake delicious cookies." Ginny teased.

Harry looked indignant. "That's not true! I'm also pretty to look at, right?"

"You cheeky little—"

"I was joking! _You're_ awfully pretty to look at though . . ."

"I thought I said not to use any corny compliments!"

Harry laughed, then got to his feet. He wiped some of the grime off the back of his robes, but there was really no point in it seeing as his entire body was covered in mud anyway. Realizing the futility of his action, Harry stopped and extended an arm down to his wife to help her up on her feet. Ginny took his hand, and he pulled her into a kiss. The rain fell harder around them, running in tiny rivulets down their faces, dripping from the ends of their hair and from their eyelashes. Harry deepened the kiss, and Ginny responded by gripping him tighter. Suddenly, she pulled her lips away from him and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

Time stood still. Harry blinked.

"W-what?"

Ginny smiled. "I'm pregnant. I went to the Healer yesterday."

Harry looked disbelievingly at her stomach as if expecting it to be bigger. She took his wrist and placed his hand on her abdomen, hoping that the gesture would make him come to his senses a little. It worked.

"Are you serious? I'm going to be a . . . a father?"

Ginny nodded.

Harry grinned.

Time stood still again as Harry put his hands on either side of Ginny's face and kissed her. The rain danced around them as though sharing their happiness.

~ Fin ~

_A/N: Show's over, folks! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your wonderful comments, reviews, and overall support of this story. It was an absolute blast to write and I may even expand on it in the future, using different pairings. If you have any ideas for me, I'd love to hear them! Leave a final review, if you'd be so kind, it would mean the world to me._

_Now, I know that at least a few of you are wondering about my master plan. The bit about the symbol that's appeared in every chapter. If recognized that it was the Chocolate Frog, excellent! But did you know the significance behind how the Frog was brought up each time? If not, allow me to explain:_

_Chapter 1: James is acting really moody and Sirius uses the Frog in an attempt to cheer him up. This was meant to show that a __sense of humor is necessary to fall in love sometimes. James eventually laughed at the frog, meaning he has sense of humor, so he gets to marry Lily in the end._

_Chapter 2: __Liars aren't lovers. Fred and George were willing to make themselves look better by pretending to be on Chocolate Frog cards, and again by tricking the veela later on. But that's no way to go about it, so the twins' frog idea doesn't work out._

_Chapter 3: Compassion and understanding are necessary in order for a relationship to work. Victoire hasn't learned this yet, and so it'll take a while for her to be worthy of Teddy. Victoire pushes her frog away from her and doesn't get it back until later in life_.

_Chapter 4: Always look on the bright side and be optimistic! Not everything will go according to plan, you may not get a fairy tale love story, but as long as you've got each other, nothing can go wrong. So Ron's frog gets a "partner" (Harry's frog), even though it has no wizard card._

_Chapter 5: Remus is right: honesty IS the best policy. Lupin showed Sirius how it was done by being honest to him about the Chocolate frog James tampered with (instead of letting him embarrass himself again) and Sirius applied that to his situation with Chelsea, told the truth, and got what he wanted. His frog was poisoned, but in the end there was no need for Sirius to eat it. This symbolizes his potential relationship with Chelsea: while he lied to her, he poisoned his chances of getting with her, but in the end, after he'd told the truth, he realized he didn't want to be with her anyway._

_Chapter 6: Persistence does pay off, but only when paired with tact. McLaggen was rude both in the way that he ate his Chocolate Frogs and in the way he tried to win Hermione over, so he was unsuccessful._

_Chapter 7: Live a little! Be open minded, have some fun, be happy. Ginny eats the Chocolate Frog even though she's supposed to be eating healthy, and dances in the rain with Harry even though she's afraid for her dress._

_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Leave a review! Again, thank you all so very much for reading! It's been a pleasure entertaining you, and I've already started three new stories, which will be up soon I'm sure. Until next time, au revoir!_


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